Talk:Jimmy Rex/@comment-27631411-20170323082743
His name was Joe. We went way back. When we were boys we used to hijack his father's dingy and cruise down Shark River – our hair thickening in the salty breeze. The sun broiled our skin lobster red as we sat for hours drifting in the wake. Boat horns blasted with the captains reading us the alphabet of curse words as they passed. We were 8. Maybe. Joe had long blonde hair with a straight bowl edge. With our shirts off we looked like we hadn't eaten in weeks. Our diets consisted mostly of cereal and the occasional hot dog. We were curious and brimming with energy. This wasn't our first time stealing a boat. There was a crab trap on the boat. We improvised bait from some gum and a molten bite size snickers bar from Joe's pocket. It wasn't much but we were enthralled by what we might catch. A sea monster! Joe exclaimed. The river's namesake came from the lore of a leviathan – one with a gnarly shark face and razor sharp tentacles – that dredged the river floor searching for children who swam to deep. I nearly shat my pants just thinking about it. We began to slowly pull the crab trap back into the boat using caution not to disturb any monsters. When it surfaced Joe took the lead on pulling it aboard on the account that I was a huge sissy. In it laid our catch: a small blue crab that was missing a claw. He must have been desperate for food. Or was it a she? It still pains me to think about him crawling on the river floor, slowly starving to death. No one should be hungry. Nature is a fickle mistress. Joe teased the crab out of the trap and it scuttled on the boat floor waving it's remaining nipper as a warning. Joe was not amused. He went to poke it with his finger and the crab struck. Joe's finger was firmly in the crabs grasp as blood poured out. So much blood. I was horrified. Joe shook his hand with a fury, jettisoning the crab from limb to a most certain demise. He forced the claw off his finger and his eyes welled with tears. Blood poured through the cracks in the floor into the river. I hadn't a clue what to do.Joe cried. I just stared at him thinking he was no better than the crab. He was on a journey through nature that was destined for failure. Maybe we all were? Suddenly a thump. The boat rocked back and forth so far that it felt like we spun over. We grasped the sides. Then his face rose behind Joe. The leviathan. The shark. Oh was it grisly. Scars from centuries of pain. It's eyes beaming with hunger. No quicker than my jaw could drop, a razor sharp tentacle pierced through Joe's chest – spewing blood, lungs, heart, you name it all over me. Joe smiled one last time with the look of "I told you so" as the monster swept Joe into his mouth, quickly disintegrating his body while diving back to the great abyss. I'll never forget that day. Or Joe. Or that poor starving crab. That's why I eat at Joe's Crab Shack. You eat or get eaten.